Ling Qi stood uncomfortably behind Cai Renxiang with the rest of the gathered council. She still wasn’t used to this, being the one with authority. However, with Yan Renshu kneeling on the ground, his hands bound and his head down in front of them, she could not deny that there was a certain satisfaction to it.

  He had been healed, his wrist no longer twisted and broken, but the manacles on his wrists suppressed his qi, rendering him effectively helpless before his peers.

  Cai Renxiang’s expression was impassive. “Do you have any words to say in regards to the charges leveled against you?”


  “Would it matter if I did?” Yan Renshu sneered. “Do as you will.”


  Beside her, Fu Xiang pushed his eyeglasses further up his nose, lenses glinting in the light cast by Cai Renxiang. . “You have seen the evidence and the records prepared, my lady. The case is clear.”


  The heiress closed her eyes briefly before she pronounced, “You are guilty, Yan Renshu, of poison and sabotage used against one of my subordinates. You are guilty of a truly staggering amount of blackmail and false contracts. You have refused all offers of honorable surrender.”


  Yan Renshu remained stonily silent.

  “This is the Sect, so your actions are mitigated by the nature of our competition, but you must still be punished,” Cai Renxiang continued after a beat. “You will remain under house arrest until the end of the year. You will be observed at all times, and your work scrutinized by experts to ensure compliance. Your remaining funds will be divided and given to those whom you defrauded. That is my judgment.”


  “Oh, I will still be allowed to work and cultivate. How generous,” Yan Renshu said darkly.

  “Indeed,” Cai Renxiang said with narrowed eyes. She glanced at the enforcers flanking him. “You may return him to the Medicine Hall.”


  Ling Qi watched as her enemy was led away, and Cai Renxiang turned to them to speak. The full council would be having a proper meeting soon, and Cai Renxiang would have something to announce at that time. However, it was hard to worry about that as she caught Meizhen’s eye.

  They needed to talk. As the others left, Ling Qi approached Meizhen. “Do you want to do this now?” she asked quietly.

  “.…… Yes. It would be best to put any further misunderstandings behind us,” Bai Meizhen said stiffly.

  “Up to the pool, you think?” Ling Qi asked carefully.

  Meizhen gave a shallow nod. “I think so.”


  They changed their course without further conversation, the two of them lost in their thoughts as they ascended the mountain. Neither of them found the climb a strain any longer, and soon, they arrived at the dead end which contained the still, frozen black pool, far from prying eyes or ears.

  Ling Qi came to a stop at the edge of the pool while Meizhen continued on, gliding steps carrying her across the slick ice. “How do you want to do this? I know I suggested it, but I’m not entirely sure what we’re supposed to say to each other.”


  Meizhen turned to face her, the pale girl’s blue and white gown billowing in the icy wind. “I would have you attempt to make me understand why you think my methods wrong,” she said plainly. Ling Qi watched her raise her hands, falling into the loose stance she took on those occasions she fought unarmed.

  “Meizhen, you know I can’t beat you. I don’t think that’s going to help,” Ling Qi said, crossing her arms.

  Her friend closed her eyes, letting out a long suffering sigh. “Qi, do not be such a mortal. We may speak and spar at the same time,” she explained, not moving from her stance. “If your hands cannot reach, then you must simply give greater thought to your words.”


  “This is one of those things I don’t quite get yet, isn’t it?” Ling Qi asked rhetorically, nonetheless falling into the simple unarmed stance that Elder Zhou had taught them at the beginning of the year upon seeing that her friend would not be moved on the matter.

  “Conflict is the core of all things,” Meizhen said quietly. “Not many truly recall that in these modern days. We are born from it, live it, and in the end, die from it.”


  “Unless you ascend, of course,” Ling Qi joked as she eyed Meizhen’s defenses. There were no real gaps to exploit. There never were. She brought her foot forward and stepped, snow bursting up behind her as she snapped out with a palm to strike Meizhen in the stomach. Her hand was deflected easily by Meizhen’s own. It seemed that they were sticking to basics for this.

  “Even spirits are not eternal, as we understand such things,” Meizhen replied. Ling Qi rolled to the side of the retaliatory knife hand that struck through where her shoulder had been. “But that is not the conversation we came here to have,” she continued as they traded blows.

  “No,” Ling Qi admitted as their spar worked a slow circle around the surface of the pool. Meizhen was still taking it easy on her; she simply wasn’t the girl’s match in unarmed combat, even using the more refined movements taught in Argent Current. They continued in silence as she gathered her thoughts. “I don’t know if I can say you are wrong. But for me, I want you to be. I told you before, didn’t I? I ran away from home. I left my Mother behind, convinced of my own righteousness, but it just left me alone.”


  “I do not understand the connection in what we speak of,” Meizhen replied, not unkindly, as she nearly sent Ling Qi tumbling, her foot having almost caught Ling Qi’s ankle.

  “It matters because it wasn’t the only time that I made a choice like that,” Ling Qi shot back as she regained her footing and counterattacked, finding herself perfectly deflected each time. “I don’t know how much you can understand what it’s like, living like I did. In that situation, you’re barely better than an animal. You scrabble and fight just to live, throwing aside everything that doesn’t help you in the immediate present. You betray and you hurt and even……” She cut herself off, letting out a ragged breath as she fell back a step to recover her stance. “I want to be better than that.”


  “You will have a difficult path then,” Meizhen said. “I will admit that I cannot understand what you speak of,” she continued as she stepped forward, shifting into offense, a probing jab whistling past Ling Qi’s ear. “I have known hunger, pain, and privation, it is true, but only within the context of survival exercises.” She paused thoughtfully, although she didn’t let up physically. “Some part of me knew that no matter how harsh Grandfather might be, he would not let me die in such a pathetic way.”


  “Pathetic, huh,” Ling Qi snorted as she wove through her friend’s deliberately slowed offense, sneaking in ineffectual counterblows. “That’s a good word for it.”


  “I meant no insult,” Bai Meizhen said evenly.

  “I didn’t take it as one. It’s accurate. I do not want to be pathetic anymore though,” she said stubbornly, offering up a feint. This time, anticipating the deflection, she twisted her wrist, managing to grasp Meizhen’s own and pull her out of guard.

  Ling Qi whipped a short, open-palmed hook towards the momentary opening, only to grimace as Meizhen twist-stepped in time with the motion, sweeping her ankle out from under her with casual grace and catching the striking arm in her grasp. The girl’s pale fingers locked around her forearm, and she seamlessly followed through with the rotation, a combination of raw strength and the momentum of her own strike yanking Ling Qi from her feet. She managed to right herself in midair from the throw, landing on her feet behind Meizhen, who was already pivoting to face her.

  “I don’t want to

  to treat everything like a matter of survival. I don’t want to have to

  someone just because we are in conflict.”


  Meizhen spun away from her charge, graceful steps carrying her across the ice. “Even if it causes you more harm in doing so? I do not ask that you become some petty tyrant, but you have no reputation. Before you may grant mercy, you must make it known that you are capable of doling out consequences, else it will rightfully be seen as weakness. You will be exploited.”


  “Why are you pushing this so hard?” Ling Qi asked irritably. “Do you really think a conflict in the Outer Sect is worth that much escalation? To violate the rules of the Sect? To put into jeopardy the relationship with Cai Renxiang?”


  “I think teaching my best friend the value of proper action is more valuable than the life of some craven miscreant!” Their physical actions receded in importance as they continued speaking, strike and counterstrike happening more by rote than conscious action. “And Cai Renxiang would understand,” Meizhen tried.

  Ling Qi could not help but scoff at that, and Meizhen grimaced.

  Meizhen was quiet for a time. “I do not want others thinking that you may be trampled upon so freely.”


  “Nothing he was doing was outside the Sect rules. I was handling his sabotage,” Ling Qi replied in exasperation.

  “You should not have had to!” Meizhen answered, anger in her voice. “Escalating small matters to the death is foolish, but what you did to him was no small harm! Your luck will not hold indefinitely, Qi!”


  Ling Qi fell back, pushed by both words and physical blows. “I’m not just lucky,” she snapped. “It’s not like I was planning to let it go forever!”


  “No, you would have simply dithered about, getting distracted by new things like a magpie in a gem mine,” Bai Meizhen said in frustration. “You cannot treat a vendetta so lightly.”


  Ling Qi replied through gritted teeth, “Let’s say you’re right and I was being too flippant. Why does it matter so much to you?”


  Meizhen’s golden eyes glared at her as they broke apart. Neither of them was breathing hard, but they were tense. “Because I understand what happens when one’s reputation for retaliation is damaged,” she said finally. “You recall what that wretch Kang Zihao said that day he ambushed us?”


  Ling Qi eyed her friend warily, staying in stance as she thought back. “.…… Something about a clan member of yours being executed,” she replied, a cold feeling settling in her stomach.

  “My Mother, Bai Meilin,” Meizhen clarified stiffly. “ She was executed for the assassination of the Sixth Prince. Her name was struck from our clan rolls, and Grandfather was forced to denounce her. No one would have dared make such an accusation if we were still feared as we should be.”


  Ling Qi stared at her friend before words escaped her, prompted by her friend’s word choice. “.……

  she do it?”


  “Grandfather would not have wasted his youngest daughter’s life on a known wastrel,” Bai Meizhen said contemptuously. “We had nothing to gain from such a death, nor would Mother have been caught if so. She was our best……” Meizhen looked away, finally falling out of her combat stance.

  “.…… I understand,” Ling Qi said finally, straightening up herself. The bruises from their spar were already fading. “But I think you are projecting in this matter. And what could I possibly do to become as feared as the Bai anyway?”


  “Maybe I was,” Meizhen admitted. “You can’t do anything to become as feared as the Bai, but that does not mean that you should not try. Be merciful, if that is your wish, but make your example first. Prove that crossing you is not to be lightly done.”


  “I won’t let anyone trample on me, but please let me do things my own way,” Ling Qi said. “Next time you think that I’m overlooking something, tell me instead of acting behind my back.”


  “I will do so,” Meizhen said. “But I will also inform you when I believe you are acting in error.”


  “And I will try to listen,” Ling Qi replied, bowing her head in thanks. “Meizhen, thank you for everything you have done. I can’t put into words how much I appreciate it.”


  Meizhen looked away, unable to meet her eyes. “Honestly, Ling Qi, there is no need for that.”


  Whatever else could be said, Ling Qi was glad that Meizhen was her friend.

  Threads 146-Old Ways 1

  Meng Dan spent the better part of an hour examining the map, questioning Ling Qi on her feelings regarding specific sites, flipping through a regional atlas drawn from his storage ring, and scattering odd platinum coins carved with different characters across the map before he delivered his verdict. The signs for best fortune pointed to a site on the southeastern edge of the map, marked by three concentric circles of carved silver trees.

  With the destination selected, Ling Qi fell back from the forefront as Cai Renxiang organized the expedition, taking a slow pace to simulate moving carefully through hostile territory. The mini-expedition would be a one day trip. She and Meng Dan were set the task of gathering information on the site from other disciples while Gan Guangli and Xia Lin were set to the task of determining the best route.

  Ling Qi rather wished that she had done such research in advance the last time she had made an expedition based on the sect map, but then again, it probably wouldn’t have been so easy before. There were far fewer people willing to give her the time of day back then.

  She found her best source of information to be one of the disciples who had been part of the caldera assault group. He had been there at the end, and he was more than willing to share what he knew.

  The destination was a defunct trial site where the spirit companion of a deceased elder slept away their remaining days. It was no longer a proper challenge site, but the dreams of the fading spirit that lived there made it dangerous, twisting the forest into a maze and filling it with hostile figments. He had made it to the second circle of trees before leaving and had gotten valuable materials for medicinal crafting, but he had heard from his older brother that the spirit at the center could sometimes awaken and give disciples boons.

  Returning to Meng Dan, she delivered her information, and he was able to cross-reference that with his own knowledge and determine that it was likely the place where Elder Lang had fallen, buying time for the Sect’s evacuation when Ogodei had arrived. Meng Dan seemed very enthusiastic about visiting the site.

  That had drawn Ling Qi up short. She had heard that name before. It was the name of the elder who had written Xuan Shi’s books. She filed that away for later.

  It was strange though. According to Meng Dan’s records, the man was a peerless swordsman from the Alabaster Sands, who had come south to retire after a century of exploring outside the Empire. Ling Qi would not have thought that one of the last men to hold the title of Sword Saint before it passed from common use would be the author of a bunch of silly books.

  The trip itself was uneventful, but they used it as practice for coordination. Together with Xia Lin, Ling Qi played outrider, scouting ahead and weaving their way through the interlocking grid of spirit territories to avoid conflict. Xia Lin was surprisingly adept at hiding her presence, and so was the silent war horse she rode.

  The others stayed together. Meng Dan used the information they delivered back to further extrapolate their path and avoid snarls that the two of them had missed. When they reached a twisted copse that couldn’t easily be bypassed, Gan Guangli and Xia Lin took point in carving a path while Ling Qi picked off and drank the energy of the lesser spirits that tried to swarm them.

  Only Cai Renxiang herself did little, but that, too, was part of the plan. The arts of the Cai were unsubtle and distinctive, and although she could tell that it frustrated her liege, Renxiang stuck to enhancing everyone else’s efforts.

  They soon reached the site itself, a towering circle of old growth that reached a hundred meters into the sky and whose bark glimmered with veins of steel. Dark fog seeped from between the ancient trunks, and the canopy blotted out the already dim fall sun.

  “This place is dying,” Meng Dan said with a rare frown, peering upward at the gentle rain of withered brown leaves.

  “According to your information, that should not be a surprise,” Xia Lin said, sliding down from her horse. “The spirit here is supposed to be fading.”


  “It is not just one spirit dying here,” Meng Dan corrected.

  “This is a place of despair,” Gan Guangli rumbled, crossing his thick arms across his chest. He peered up at the withering trees and the veins of rusted steel that ran through their bark with an expression of dislike. “Miss Ling, Sir Meng, are you certain of your divinations?”


  Ling Qi understood his disquiet. The fog felt like Tonghou in the depths of winter. Cheer curled up and died here among the gnarled roots. Yet all the same, the map had never directed her to an unhelpful place……

  Even if she may not have liked all of the results.

  Sixiang murmured.

  “I am confident. Don’t let the aura of the place pick at your resolve,” Ling Qi said, idly rubbing her arms. There was a chill here that had nothing to do with temperature.

  “Just so. This is but one of the many scents of history,” Meng Dan agreed.

  “Indeed,” Renxiang said, stepping up past them all. Her light seared the twisting fingers of mist and scattered the gloom.

  Ling Qi felt the chill fade, and in that moment, she fully recognized the pall that hung over this place. It was death of purpose, the cessation of ambition and drive.

  No wonder Cai Renxiang so easily parted it.

  ***

  Sixiang was right. This place wasn’t dangerous in a conventional way. They were, as a group, too strong for mere figments to impede. Phantoms of glinting steel melted before them, and twisting passages of dream stuff and bent space parted before her fledgling experience and Meng Dan’s navigational techniques.

  No, the trouble was the growing whispers of doubt and ennui in her thoughts whenever she ventured from the group to scout. She could see its effects in everyone, although aside from Renxiang, Gan Guangli seemed to bear it the best. She could tell that he didn’t like this place from the set of his jaw, but there seemed to be an inner light in his eyes, not quite like the harsh and colorless radiance her liege gave off. As they worked their way through the first and second rings of trees, Ling Qi didn’t miss the way all of them seemed to unconsciously shift toward tightening their formation, moving closer to Renxiang, who was the only one untouched by the fog.

  Soon, they found their way to the final circle where they saw an archway formed of trees grown together, filled by cloying fog impenetrable to all senses. It was, Ling Qi thought a touch sourly, probably a lot like what she inflicted on other people.

  Sixiang teased half-heartedly.

  She supposed that to Sixiang, this near palpable aura of listlessness was probably equivalent.

  “What is our plan from here, Lady Cai?” she asked.

  Her liege frowned at the nearly solid wall of fog. Even her ambient glow failed to penetrate it. “Given the intelligence we have, brute force is a poor choice. The entity here is not an enemy. However, peaceful contact cannot be guaranteed. Gan Guangli, Xia Lin, you will take the point and press through. I will fortify your spirits.”


  Xia Lin Lin grimaced, withdrawing her hand from the fog. It clung like liquid mud to her fingers. “By your command.”


  Gan Guangli squared his shoulders and gave a simple nod.

  “Ling Qi, Meng Dan, prepare your divinatory arts. I will require your assistance to coordinate should our senses be scrambled,” Renxiang ordered.

  Ling Qi nodded, silver flickering in her eyes as she renewed her sense-enhancing arts. Meng Dan simply bowed, showing no visible change.

  They pressed through the fog and emerged in a graveyard.

  They stood on the edge of a great, rounded depression in the ground surrounded by the innermost ring of trees. Below them lay a field of bones. Ling Qi found her grip on her flute tightening as her mind flashed back to another graveyard seen in a dream.

  But it wasn’t the same. These bones were half returned to earth, overgrown with moss and buried in loam. She saw the bones of men, horses, and more exotic things, all of which had been cut. Skulls lay where they had fallen, bisected at the eye sockets, rib cages lay on their sides, cut vertically through the center, and at the bottom, what she took as white moss was a fine powder of bone shards, cut too small to hold any shape.

  “Do you see the pattern?” Meng Dan asked, his voice sounding muffled to her ears.

  Ling Qi squinted, following where his finger pointed.

  She realized then the pattern in the bones traced out the gigantic figure of an old man lying on his side, curled in on himself.

  The air thrummed, and she tore her eyes away to zero in on the source. There, lying among the bones, lay a broken sword. It was rust-pitted, its handle bare of padding, but it still hurt her eyes to look at the edge.

  The voice was a corroded whisper, the sound of a smooth draw corrupted by rust.

  Ling Qi frowned, glancing around at the others. No one here was a fire cultivator of any note.

  “Honored ancestor,” she said, stepping forward and allowing the smooth flow of her Melodies of the Spirit Seekers art to take effect, dulling the cutting edge in the air. “Although we are not all disciples of the Sect, we mean no harm.”


  the voice whispered.

  Ling Qi glanced at Renxiang then, and she thought she understood. One could liken the Duchess to a fire in some aspects. “We are on the eve of an important mission, which may save the Sect from great harm. Divination indicated that this was an auspicious place to explore.”


  She eyed the others. Gan Guangli and Xia Lin stood on either side of Renxiang, watching their surroundings intently. Xia Lin’s eyes, though, tracked back to the broken blade again and again, the halberd in her hand seemed to vibrate with dissatisfaction.

  Meng Dan was beside her, studying everything with faint interest in his eyes.

  the voice whispered.

  “Why would the Sect leave such a superlative blade to moulder?” Xia Lin hissed to her. “It is a disgrace. If this is meant as a memorial, it is a poor one.”


  Ling Qi glanced to her, but before she could reply, the blade itself did.

  the voice ground out.

  She glanced at the other girl, silently beseeching her to hold her tongue. Xia Lin glared down at the sword, but she didn’t speak.

  Meng Dan murmured. She glanced his way. Although his lips were not moving, his voice whispered directly in her ears.